


All These Colors Fade for You Only

by KingGrantaire



Category: Peaky Blinders (TV)
Genre: Enemies to Lovers, Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut, Falling In Love, Family Issues, M/M, Past Abuse, Past Child Abuse, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Vincent is a big yet smol boi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-24
Updated: 2020-10-08
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:27:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,514
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23813800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KingGrantaire/pseuds/KingGrantaire
Summary: Vincent Shelby has never been the first to be called upon when His brother needs something done. So when Tommy asks Vincent to accompany him to his first meeting with Alfie Solomons, he's confused. At first reluctant, but wanting to prove himself, Vincent travels with Tommy to London and finds that Alfie Solomons has more to offer him than a business deal.
Relationships: Alfie Solomons / Original Male Character(s)
Comments: 7
Kudos: 49





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I came to the conclusion that there aren't many Alfie/ Male OC stories out there so I'm writing one. Vincent is my original character. I do not own any of the other Peaky Blinders characters. I hope you guys enjoy. Please feel free to leave feedback and kudos if you like the story.

_ “You’re the only one I can trust with this, Vincent.”  _

Those words had been repeatedly playing through Vincent’s head since Tommy had woken him up this morning. It had been early when Tommy had come into his room. He was supposed to be in the hospital, at least that’s what aunt Pol had told him. So seeing Tommy looming over him, his breath loud and ragged in the quiet of Vincent’s room, had made him jump and reach for the gun under his pillow. Tommy had shushed him and sat down on the side of his bed, placing his hands on either side of the younger Shelby’s face. 

“ _ I need you to do something for me. I’m going to London. Going to speak with Alfie Solomons. I’m not in the right state to go alone. So I need you to come with me.”  _ Vincent felt like his heart had dropped into his stomach. It was unusual that Tommy asked him to come along for business ventures. That’s what Arthur and John were for. His real brothers. So why would he ask Vincent?

He had been meaning to ask. Really, he had. But Tommy had this weird way of making decisions definitive without say from any of his family. So instead of asking, Vincent had gotten up, gotten dressed, and climbed into the car with Tommy. 

  
  


The journey there was quiet. It almost always was with Tommy. Vincent figured it was because they were quite different from each other. Always had been. Of course, Vincent was different from all his siblings. It was a given really. He was a bastard child. Product of one of many one night stands Arthur sr. had partaken in during one of many absences from his family. Vincent had lived with his mother until he was three. She had sent for Arthur Sr. after finding she was dying of syphilis and begged him to take care of Vincent. Arthur Sr. had begrudgingly retrieved him from his mother’s small flat in Manchester, despite repeatedly stating he was not Vincent’s father and brought him back to Birmingham. Mrs. Shelby had been upset, but not for long. She had known of Arthur Sr’s unfaithfulness, and so it hadn’t surprised her so much when he had placed the three-year-old in her arms stating that vincent was his child and that because she was his wife, she was to raise the boy alongside Arthur and Tommy, then eight and five.

It had been a shock to the three boys. Vincent’s sudden introduction into the family. Then, after a while, things began to settle. John, Ada, and Finn were born and everything seemed pretty normal. Sure Arthur Sr. had made sure to repeatedly remind Vincent that there was a chance he wasn’t really a Shelby and that his mother had been a useless whore who didn’t love him. It wasn’t until later he had learned the truth of his birth mother from Aunt Pol. By then, however, he only knew Mrs. Shelby as Mum and had often tried to erase the fact that she wasn’t his real mother. She had been a saint, his adoptive mother. Never once made him feel different from his siblings. And yet, there was always the unspoken fact that Vincent may not be a Shelby. It was always there. It was in the stares from strangers. It was in the back of his family’s minds. It was in the way Tommy looked at him. Always with a sort of disappointed silence. It irked Vincent. And so talking to Tommy had always been hard because of this. 

Vincent hadn’t ever really looked or acted like his siblings either. “The kind giant” they had called him growing up. He was taller than everyone in his family, 6’5 to be exact, and was more muscular in build than his brothers. His hair was a dirty red-ish color and his eyes were the color of dark honey. The only physical attributes he shared with his family, were his complexion, angular face, and high cheekbones. Vincent was quiet as well, preferring to listen, rather than talk. Despite his intimidating size, he wasn’t good at confrontation either. The war had scared it clean out of him, as opposed to driving him to it like the other Shelby men. The only thing he really enjoyed was making art. He loved to sketch, and the small book he carried with him was full of rough sketches of his family, nature, animals, and sometimes strangers he spotted around small heath. His family was supportive enough of his passion for drawing, but he knew it wasn’t considered an actual career. 

With all this in mind, Vincent found it incredibly difficult to understand why Tommy would have picked him to accompany him in meeting with Alfie Solomons. From what he heard Solomon’s had a reputation in London and would be difficult to work with. Maybe Tommy had brought him as some sort of intimidation factor. It wouldn’t be the first time Tommy had asked Vincent to just stand there and look menacing.

“You going to stay in your head all day, or are you going to come inside with me?” Tommy asked, breaking Vincent from his thoughts. Vincent looked at the other man not having realized where he was and nodded, getting out of the car, following after Tommy into the warehouse he assumed held Solomon’s “bakery”. 

They were stopped shortly after entering by a thin, nervous-looking young man. He eyed both men suspiciously. 

“Erm, do you- do you have an appointment with Mr. Solomons?” He asked, his eyes darting in between Tommy and Vincent. Tommy made an attempt to smile warmly at the other man. 

“Yes, tell him Thomas Shelby wishes to speak with him,” Tommy said, alternating his weight from foot to foot and crossing his arms over his chest.

Vincent knew his brother enough to know he was hurting and gave him a look as if to ask if he was okay. Tommy ignored Vincent and gave Alfie’s worker an expectant look. The other man nodded with sudden understanding and made a point to quickly turn to go retrieve his boss. Before he could take a step, a man’s thick east end accent rang out throughout the bakery. 

“Put ‘im down, Ollie. He’s only little.” 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Don't mind me. Just writin' some angst.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's a new chapter, hope you guys enjoy. Please feel free to leave questions, comments, suggestions, etc. Im always open to constructive criticism.

The first time Vincent makes eye contact with Alfie Solomons, it's while he and Tommy are in their tense discussion about Alfie’s mutual problem with Zabini. The conversation goes back and forth, tension rising, and Vincent can tell Tommy’s growing tired of Solomons’ constant dancing around questions. Vincent found it quite entertaining, frankly. At least it was until the crazy bastard had pulled a gun, and leveled it in front of Tommy’s face. 

Vincent had moved almost instantly, taking only one step forward before Alfie turned to look at him. His stare was crazed, holding the promise of violence and causing Vincent to freeze. 

“Now that’s not very smart, is it.? Walking towards a loaded gun. You should probably go back to standin’ in the corner, Lad. The adults are talking.” He said, an amused twinkle forming in his eyes. 

Vincent looked to Tommy, and seeing that Tommy said nothing in protest, he rolled his eyes and leaned back into his previous position. He crossed his arms over his chest and waited for the Jew to continue on with the nonsense he had been spouting at Tommy. 

Alfie seemed content after a couple of seconds, however, and instead sat back in his chair. He set the gun down on his desk and smoothed a hand over his beard, seeming suddenly deep in thought. Vincent almost sighed but thought better about it. He could think of a million things he would have rather been doing than this. Hell, it almost seemed like Tommy was thinking the same thing with his uninterested expression. It could also have been from the pain Tommy might have been in, but Vincent doubted it. Tommy was gifted with an unmovable poker face.

When Alfie finally decided to speak again, he leaned forward, looking at Tommy first and then dragging his eyes over Vincent, before looking back at Tommy again.

“Tell you what, I’ll say yes to an alliance, but I want one more thing from you, Mr. Shelby.” He said, a secretive smile playing at his lips. “And what would that be, Mr. Solomons?” Tommy asked, tone even and collected. Alfie sat back at his chair and his eyes flickered over to Vincent, causing the younger Shelby to shift uncomfortably. 

“Well, you say you’ll give me some of your men, yeah? And that’s all well and good, right. Wouldn’t mind some extra muscle,” He said, his hands moving with his words. “But what I really want, right, is that- that wonderous, giant of a creature right there.” He explained, pointing directly at Vincent. 

Vincent’s eyes went wide. Him? What did he want with him? He uncrossed his arms and looked directly at Tommy with an incredulous expression, 

“Tom.” He said, his voice pitched with panic. His brothers had always told him to stay calm in situations like this. It didn’t do to panic over such things. It made men like Alfie Solomons feel like they had all the power and that wasn’t a position you wanted to be in when making deals with dangerous people. And yet, Vincent couldn’t seem to help the scared, childlike whine that had passed his throat when he had addressed Tommy. 

Tommy held a hand up to stop Vincent from saying anything else and moved forward in his seat to get a better look at Alfie. 

“You want Vincent, eh? And what exactly do you want him for?” Tommy asked, his eyes narrowing as he took his cigarette holder out of his coat pocket, placing one between his lips, and returning the silver case back to its respective place. 

Alfie watched Tommy light the cigarette for a bit as if contemplating his next words. When he finally pulled his eyes away it was to examine Vincent again. This time his gaze bore deeper, and it paid careful attention to take in all of the younger Shelby’s features. Vincent inwardly shivered and felt the tough resolve he usually carried with these kinds of situations falling. He felt naked. Like the older man could see through his clothes. Like he could see through his skin.

Alfie continued to study Vincent but addressed Tommy as he spoke.

“Right, well, to put it quite plainly, Mr. Shelby, Your Vincent is something else, isn’t he. I’m usually quite partial to women, right, but I don’t mind the occasional company of the same sex. Especially, if they are as magnificent as this young man here.” He explained, waving his hand in Vincent’s general direction. “So in turn, you give me your boy, and the armed men and I’ll agree to forming this little alliance with Shelby Company limited.”  
Vincent gawked. He was batshit. Alfie Solomons was absolutely mental. He wanted Tommy to just hand him over as if he was a wad of cash, and call it a day. Vincent’s head reeled. He had to calm down. His brother wouldn’t just give him over to London’s most notorious crime boss. They were family. And you didn’t fuck family over like that.

“I think we might just have a deal, Mr. Solomons,” Tommy said evenly, stubbing his cigarette out in the small, crystal ashtray on Alfie’s desk. He stood carefully so as not to jostle his injured frame too much and held his hand out to Alfie, shaking the jew’s hand firmly. “ You’ll have to give me a couple of days to finalize everything. Vincent will need to collect his belongings if you are wanting him to reside here, and I’ll need to see about getting you those men. I’ll send word, say, in a week.” Tommy said, nonchalantly, clearly done with their discussion. 

Alfie seemed to notice this and gave Vincent one more curious look before turning back to Tommy. 

“Five days.” He said, his tone low and full of certainty. 

Vincent felt numb. As if Tommy had just shoved him into a frozen lake. He wanted desperately to say something. To speak up. But the way Tommy looked at him as he nudged him out of Alfie’s office and onto the main floor of the warehouse stopped him. They walked briskly to the car and once inside the safety of the vehicle, Vincent looked at his older brother. 

“I- you- you just gave me up to him. You handed me over as if I were a stray pup you had found wandering the street.” He murmured, tears stinging his eyes. How could he? His own fucking brother. 

Tommy sighed heavily, remorse coating every inch of his face. He turned the key in the ignition and cleared his throat. 

“Everything I do, Vince, is for the sake of our family. Everything. We need Alfie Solomons on our side, eh. I know you’re scared. I know I didn’t consult you about it. But this, right, This is going to help us,” He said, taking his brother’s tear-filled face in his hands. “ Everyone in life has to make sacrifices, brother. This is yours. I need you to be strong, eh. I need you to do this for our family.” Tommy said, his forget- me- not eyes staring straight into Vincent’s amber irises. Vincent pulled away from Tommy and looked away, wiping tears on the sleeve of his coat. Sacrifices, he had always figured, were supposed to be made by the person who you have to bare the weight of it. Then again, Tommy had always been good at making choices for everyone but himself.  
Vincent crossed his arms over his chest, his breath shuttering as he exhaled. He didn’t look back at Tommy but could feel his gaze. 

“Just take me home, Tom,” Vincent whispered. 

Tommy said nothing and proceeded to put the car in drive, taking them further and further away from Alfie’s bakery. A tense silence made it’s self comfortable in the cabin of the car, and neither Shelby made an attempt to break it. 

Vincent watched buildings and homes pass as they drove, and suddenly wished he had just stayed in bed. 

When they get back home to their house on Watery Lane, Vincent doesn’t wait for Tommy and instead storms straight inside, and up the steps, to his room. He passes Polly on the way in but pays no mind to her worried expression. He surges down the hallway leading to his room, and throws the door open, only to turn and slam it. He had remembered once taking it off it’s hinges after throwing a fit as a teenager. He thought about doing it again, but instead, chucking the door straight at Tommy’s head. Who was he to decide that he could just use Vincent as a bartering tool? 

Vincent plopped down on his bed, rubbing his hands over his face as more tears threatened to come. Maybe it wasn’t so outlandish that Tommy would do such a thing. Vincent figured if he was just going to whore out any of his siblings it would be him, right? It’s easier to give something up when you don’t care much for it. 

The realization hit him quickly, and he grabbed the nearest thing, that being a pillow, and chucked it with all his might at the lamp on his dresser. Downstairs he could hear the gentle murmur of voices. Tommy must have called a family meeting to talk the situation over. 

Fuck Tommy, he thought. Fuck the lot of them. He knew they’d take his side. They always did. It almost made him wonder if he was in the wrong. If maybe he was being selfish. Tommy had said that this would all be for them. That it would benefit the family. But how was he suppose to benefit from any of it if he was being used as a fucking plaything by a sociopathic Jewish gangster? He wasn’t, that’s how. 

Vincent let out a quiet sob, careful not to let them hear him, and laid down in his bed. He curled up slowly in a ball and cried softly, his tears making a wet spot in the bed, and listened to the quiet sounds of his family deciding his fate from the dining room downstairs.

The sun was beginning to set slowly over Small Heath, and it casted ominous shadows across the floor of Vincent’s room. 

He wondered, tears burning his cheeks, if the sun fell the same in Camden Town as it did in Birmingham.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Stay tuned for chapter three in the next two days or so!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vincent's big day has arrived.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this took so long, and that this chapter is so short. I'm dealing with quite a lot in my personal life at the moment, but i am looking forward to writing more!!!!!

Drowning. He was drowning.

Vincent cried out. His scream gurgled, as he choked on sludgy earth. He was drowning in it. Suffocating under the weight of mud, dirt, clay, and the bodies of men he had once called friends.  
Vincent, through the grime caked around his eyes, could see them. His family looking down on him. Not one of them extending a hand to help him.

But suddenly he felt someone grabbing his arms. They pulled and tugged until he felt his body being freed from the earth. Hands wiped gently at his face, trying to remove the muck. He coughed, clearing his lungs. He tried to get a good look at his savior. 

All he saw staring back at him was light.

Vincent woke abruptly. He sat up in a quiet daze and could feel soaked sheets underneath him growing cold. Great. He had pissed the bed again. How long had he gone without doing so this time around? Three months? Two? He really couldn’t remember. He just knew it was annoying and slightly embarrassing to have wet the bed after not having done for some time. It was his only side effect of the war (minus the occasional nightmare), so in turn, he figured maybe he should feel lucky. He could have turned out like Arthur. Or even Tommy. 

He sighed and threw his duvet back, sluggishly pulling himself from his bed. He stood and pulled his underwear off, throwing the soaked article to the side. After, rooting through his clothes he found something appropriate to wear for the day and made his way to the washroom. 

It was early, he figured. The sun had yet to come up fully, but the sky was casting a blue light throughout the house on watery lane. Vincent took his time walking to the washroom despite being naked. No one would be up for at least another hour. Well, at least Tommy wouldn’t be up for another hour. 

Today was the day. Tommy was making good on his promise to Solomons, despite Vincent’s distress about the situation. Tommy had asked for five days. Alfie had given them to him. Vincent had almost thought Tommy had changed his mind until he overheard his older brother on the phone with the jew the night before. He had solidified his part of the deal, and let Alfie know that he would be bringing Vincent to him sometime around noon the next day. 

And today was it. He was being given over to one of the most dangerous men in all of London. He had given up trying to argue with Tommy about it after two days. He wasn’t getting out of it. It was better for him to just shut up and take the hand he had been given. That's what he had always done. What his family had always done.

He hoped this sacrifice would truly help his family as Tommy had said. Despite no one coming to his defense in this whole matter, he did love them. He wouldn’t admit it out loud but he was going to miss them something terrible. 

“Please, just try and stay in his good graces, Vince. I’ve heard he’s not the easiest to be around when upset,” Tommy had chided. It was around eleven by the time they reached London, having left shortly after Vincent had finished bathing. Tommy had lectured Vincent nervously the entire drive about what was expected of him during his time with Alfie Solomons. However long that time might be, Vincent didn’t know, but he did know he hoped it wasn’t forever. Maybe the older man would grow tired of him after a day or two and send him back. Vincent frowned. Sounded like his own stupid wishful thinking. 

“Couldn’t be any worse than dad. Let’s just hope Solomons hasn’t got a fire iron on hand.” Vincent said jokingly, desperately trying to calm his own nerves. The joke didn’t seem to sit well with Tommy, and he almost winced at the uncomfortable memory. Vincent sighed and looked down at the burn scar on his hand. 

He had been all but eleven when Arthur Sr. had burnt his hand with a fire iron. He had snuck a thimble full of currant wine from a bottle he found in Aunt Pol’s bedroom. He wouldn’t have gotten caught had john, eight at the time, not walked in on him and badgered Vincent about giving him a taste. Vincent had refused, telling the younger Shelby he was too young. John, like most boys of that age, ran straight to Arthur Sr. to tell him what Vincent had done. Needless to say, Vincent never touched anything that didn’t belong to him ever again and was left with a small irrational fear of fire irons. Unlike his siblings, however, Vincent tended to deal with trauma through humor and often joked about it. It seemed to always unsettle the rest of the Shelby family, despite making Vincent feel better. 

He shook the thoughts away, noticing they were nearing his present challenge at hand. Alfie Solomons’ bakery looked as it had when they had first visited but now held a dangerous quality to it. It almost felt like Vincent was nearing execution. 

He sighed and gathered his things from the back seat before looking back at Tommy.

“Would you like me to go in with you?” Tommy asked, his voice careful and calm. Vincent shook his head. 

“If I have to do this thing alone. I’d rather do the whole thing alone, Tom.” He said, a sad smile playing at his lips. He patted his older brother’s shoulder and got out of the car quickly, not wanted to draw out his departure any longer.

He moved toward the bakery, not even turning to say goodbye, and stomped his way through the mud towards the entrance. Ollie, the young man who had met Tommy and Vincent at the door on their first visit, was again standing at the mouth of the bakery waiting patiently for Vincent. 

“Hello, Mr. Shelby. Alfie wanted me to let you know he has some business he has to attend to at the moment but has asked me to escort you to his home.” Ollie said, his eyes looking everywhere except for Vincent. It was almost as if he were trying to remember what Solomons had told him word for word.

Vincent said nothing but nodded and allowed Ollie to lead him to another car that was parked a couple feet away. As Vincent walked, he wondered if Ollie knew the nature of Vincent’s stay in his boss’ home. Then again, Ollie was probably too afraid of Alfie to question anything he did.

Rightly so, Vincent thought. 

The drive to Solomons’ place is short and quiet. Ollie is careful not to make unnecessary eye contact, and speaks in one-word answers when Vincent addresses him. He didn’t blame Ollie, Vincent had always physically managed to cut an imposing figure. It only made sense that the smaller man would be weary. 

This behavior doesn’t cease as they pull up to Alfie’s small, red brick house, and seems to only grow worse when Ollie lets them in and gives Vincent a tour of the first floor. 

Alfie’s house isn’t what Vincent had expected, and yet it causes his curiosity to flare up a bit. The first floor of the house small and quaint. It’s sitting room holds a sofa, two cushioned chairs with matching side tables, a bookcase, a small coffee table, and a fireplace. Every bit of furniture seems to be quite dated but makes sense in an older house like Alfie’s. The kitchen has the same dated feeling as the sitting room, doesn’t do much to impress. Of course, it doesn’t seem like Alfie really cares much for impressing others anyway. Vincent figures it could be worse, and finds himself relieved that the rooms he has seen so far are clean. 

“Erm, Alfie wanted me to tell you that you have free reign of the first floor, but he doesn’t want you wandering about upstairs until he gets back. Should only take him a couple of hours, he said.” Ollie finished, walking ahead of Vincent back into the sitting room. He stopped and turned awkwardly to look at the Brummie. “I’ll be heading back to work now. Should you need anything, Alfie said you can phone up to the bakery, and ask for him.” Ollie explained, before walking to the front door. He turned once more, nodding at Vincent as if to say good luck, and disappeared out the door before Vincent could say goodbye. 

Vincent nodded to himself, and returned back to the sitting room, making a point to begin to look around more closely. Alfie didn’t have any pictures hanging up, and the only thing that caught his interest was the bookcase next to the fireplace. 

Upon further inspection, Vincent found that every book on Alfie’s shelves were each on different topics. Politics, art, cooking, music, religion, medicine. He seemed to have a book on everything, and it made Vincent wonder if there were more upstairs. 

Vincent didn’t want to test his theory though, not after being given such specific rules. So instead, he pulled a book about anatomy off one of the shelves and settled himself down on the sofa. 

He found himself, over the next hour or so, looking up at the clock, and nervously wondering what time the Jewish gangster would show up. He was beginning to grow tired after having gotten up so early and debated laying down on the sofa to have a small nap. 

It didn’t take long for him to make the decision to settle himself down on the sofa. Maybe a nap will calm my nerves, he thought. He stretched out his legs finding that his size dwarfed the furniture. He was comfortable despite this, and only minutes later, fell deeply into sleep.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vince makes stupid decisions, y'all.

Vincent woke sometime later to the smell of something cooking and the sound of someone dragging their feet in the kitchen. He opened his eyes and rubbed the sleep away before stretching, his joints popping and cracking. He was far too big to sleep on such a small sofa and could feel the oncoming ache in his shoulders. Vincent sighed and sat up, looking again at the small living area. It had grown dark and Vincent wondered how long he had been asleep. He stood quietly, set the book he had been reading on the side table, and made his way to the kitchen. 

The sounds from the kitchen hadn’t subsided and instead were only made louder by grumbling curses. 

Vincent nervously removed his cap and shoved it in his back pocket. There was no doubt that the person in the kitchen was Alfie. What made Vincent nervous was that he was now alone with the other man. No Tommy. No Ollie. Nobody but him and Solomons. 

He took a deep breath and stepped forward, peeking his head in the kitchen doorway. 

Alfie was at the small stove, stirring something in a big stockpot. He shifted his weight all to one leg and had one of his hands on his hip. He looked deep in thought, staring at the contents of the pot. He was so deep in thought that he hadn’t noticed that Vincent was now fully standing in the doorway. Vincent figured he must have started cooking right after he got home. He was still in his apron from the bakery. 

Alfie’s white shirt was rolled up past his elbows, the top two buttons undone. He had what looked to be soot on his left cheek and some spots on his shirt but otherwise seemed clean. Vincent noted that the other man looked different from the first time he had seen him. Though he looked pensive, he was relaxed. Alfie had seemed so serious. So crazed. Intimidating. But here, in the comfort of his own home, none of that was there. Then again it was quite early in their knowing each other. He could change in an instant and completely surprise Vincent. 

Vincent cleared his throat to make his presence known and was met with a grin from Alfie as he turned around to face Vincent.

“Hello, treacle. Sorry, I couldn’t meet you at the bakery but I handling another matter at hand, much to my dismay,” Alfie said untying the apron around his waist and throwing it over the back of a kitchen chair. “Ollie show you around? He’s always forgetting things, that boy.” 

Vincent ignored the pet name and shifted awkwardly. Alfie looked at him expectantly, and Vincent could see that familiar crazed look creeping around behind a softer expression. 

“Erm, Well, yeah. He showed me the kitchen and the sitting room. Told me you said to make myself comfortable and to not go upstairs.” Vincent said, looking everywhere but at the older man. 

“Right, well, that’s good, that is,” Alfie said clapping his hands in front of him. “I’ll show you upstairs after we eat. Hope you’re alright with stew.” He said, gesturing towards a chair. 

Vincent nodded and sat down in one of the kitchen chairs at the table. He watched quietly as Alfie ladled him a bowl of stew, and wondered what his family was having for dinner. He thought about crying. This all felt so awkward and foreign. He wanted to be home at watery lane, sitting around the table with his family. But instead, he was being fed stew by a stranger. A dangerous stranger. 

Alfie set the bowl down in front of Vincent and then made his own bowl. He set it down on the spot across from Vincent and then grabbed two cups and a pitcher of water. He placed those down on the center of the table, and finally sat down. He made to dig in before looking at Vincent. 

“Go on, sweetheart. It’ll go cold you wait too long.”Alfie nodded, gesturing encouragingly at the bowl of soup in front of Vincent. He gave Vincent a small smile. The Brummie was surprised to find that the smile looked genuine. Vincent nodded, and gathered a spoonful, placing it in his mouth. It was hot, not having cooled down completely, but it was delicious. He couldn’t tell if it was genuinely good or if he was just hungry. Either way, he had the whole bowl gone in a matter of minutes. 

Alfie chuckled, and stood, grabbing Vincent’s bowl. The jew ladled more into Vincent’s bowl and set it down in front of him, before returning to his own bowl. 

They ate in silence mostly. Occasionally, Alfie would ask Vincent a question, and Vincent would answer. They were mostly about his personal life, along with his likes and dislikes. Alfie didn’t once ask about the rest of the Shelby clan, which was a relief to Vincent. He wouldn’t get through this if his thoughts were constantly on his family. 

After cleaning up ( in which Alfie refused to let Vincent help do), Alfie led Vincent upstairs. They stopped at the top of the stairs and Alfie pointed at the door closest to them. 

“That there is the washroom,” Alfie said, before moving to the door across from it. “ That’s my study, I’d appreciate that if you need in there for some reason, that you let me know beforehand, yeah?” He said, looking at Vincent seriously. 

Vincent nodded and followed Alfie down the hall to the last two doors. 

“This here is my room, your welcome in here so as long as I’m in there and you knock,” Alfie said briefly, before stopping at the last door. He opened it, and let Vincent in the room. 

“ This is your room. You can do whatever you like with it, it’s yours.” Alfie explained, leaning up against the door frame as Vincent looked around. 

The room was small like the rest of Alfie’s house. It had a bed, a small wardrobe, and a desk. It was quite a plain-looking room, but it didn’t matter. Vincent hoped he wouldn’t be staying with Alfie long anyway.

Vincent set his suitcases down and plopped down on the bed.

“Thank you, Mr. Solomons. It’s a nice room.” Vincent said politely. 

Alfie rolled his eyes and snorted. 

“You don’t have to say thank you. It’s a shit room. A shit house really. But it’s what I’ve got, innit.” Alfie said matter of factly. Vincent nodded and looked down awkwardly at his hands. A silence settled in the room for a bit until Alfie cleared his throat, causing Vincent to look up at the other man. 

“I have to be up early tomorrow. Got a meeting. So I’m going to head to bed. If you need something, you know where I’m at.” Alfie said awkwardly, jabbing a thumb in the direction of his room. 

Vincent didn’t say anything and instead nodded in understanding. 

“Right, well, goodnight lad,” Alfie said before turning and walking out of the room. He closed the door lightly, and Vincent let out a deep sigh of relief. Though, the relief was short-lived as Alfie opened the door again and stepped back into the room. 

“I’m sorry, I- erm,... I’d like to… I’d like to kiss you goodnight.” Alfie admitted, his face showing uncharacteristic insecurity. Vincent gave him a confused expression. Seeing this, Alfie’s expression changed to one of worry. “ I mean,... only if you’d like to. I don’t want to make you do something you don’t want to.” 

Vincent looked at the floor in embarrassment. 

“Well- I...I don’t…” He stuttered, his eyes plastered to the floor. 

Alfie moved from his position in the doorway and crouched down in front of where Vincent was sitting on the bed. 

“See, I- I Know it’s real foreword, right. Asking you to kiss me. But,... I haven’t stopped thinking about you since I first saw you, yeah.” Alfie said, grabbing Vincent’s hands in his. “I know all of this is quite jarring. Being away from your family. Being thrown into the lion’s den, so to speak. But I don’t want to devour you like a lion. At least not in that way… I- I’m getting off track. What I’m saying is is that I want you.” 

Vincent opened his mouth to speak but nothing seemed to come out. Alfie wanted him? He had known that. Or something of it. But he hadn’t known that Alfie would have been so gentle about it. Alfie was the type of man that had the power to take what he wanted, even if what he wanted was several feet taller than him, and built like a brick house. He didn’t have to ask if he could just take. So why hadn’t he just taken Vincent like he wanted to?

Vincent looked at the other man.

“You want..me?” Vincent asked purely out of lack of anything else to say. Alfie nodded. 

“More than you could possibly understand.” 

Alfie’s face was serious, and yet behind his eyes, Vicent thought he could see something akin to pain. He wondered, curiously, what had caused the hidden pain. Most of all he wondered why Alfie wanted him? Of all the people in the universe, and Alfie Solomons wanted him. He had heard on the occasion of men being infatuated with other men, even women with other women, but It had never struck Vincent that Alfie Solomons would be the sort to want the company of a man until they had their first meeting. Alfie looked every part the strong family man. The one whose wife and children you did not mess with. And even if he were interested in men, Vincent had figured he’d be more interested in the smaller, effeminate type. It stirred confusion in him. He had never felt wanted by anyone before. And now there was this strange man, dubbed insane and called a monster, on his knees in front of him. He should have been running. He should be telling him no. But he wanted Vincent’s affections. No one hand ever wanted Vincent's affections before.

Vincent looked down at the hands holding his own, and before he could think better of it, he leaned forward and caught Alfie’s mouth with his own.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hi, I'm back with a new chapter. I'm feeling very refreshed, and ready to continue Vincent's journey. Please feel free to leave comments, kudos, and criticisms. Hope you guys enjoy it!

A shifting outside Vincent’s door is what wakes him the next morning. It’s early. The sun has yet to come up, and Vincent’s new room looks warped with the blue morning light.

He knows it’s Alfie moving around outside his door and he hopes desperately that the older man will just go on to work and not check in on him. He had asked Vincent the night before after he had kissed him if he could come to say goodbye to him before he left for work the next morning. It had been asked quietly and close to Vincent’s ear, and in a dazed rush, the Brummie had said yes. Had all but implied that he wanted nothing more than to see the older man again, and to feel Alfie’s lips against his own once more. 

Vincent had expected the other man to want sex from him. He figured that it was the reason for his whole stay here. Hell, Vincent had even hoped Alfie would just have his way with him, and then maybe he’d be satisfied and send him Vincent back to Small Heath. But he hadn’t. He didn’t make one move without asking for Vincent’s permission that night. He had kissed Vincent very softly and sweetly and whispered something Vincent couldn’t make out, before asking to see him again before he went off to work. And it had all left Vincent confused and half wishing that the other man had invited him to his bed. Vincent spent the rest of the night wondering and tossing back and forth, until falling asleep earlier that morning. 

He was afraid now. Afraid that he’d actually begin to develop feelings for Alfie. He couldn’t. He wouldn’t allow himself to do that. He wanted to go home. He wanted to go back to his family and pretend this never happened. He’d settle himself down with some nice girl and have several children to pass the Shelby name down to. He’d be respectable and no longer be the butt of his family’s jokes and ridicule. If he allowed himself to feel anything for Alfie, he’d never live it down. He’d continue to be the outsider. All he had to do was tell Alfie to do whatever it is he wanted Vincent for and then let him go. 

This was all easier said than done and was made even more difficult when Alfie knocked on the door. Vincent closed his eyes and pretended to be asleep, and tried to be careful not to jump when Alfie opened his door. He evened out his breathing and even added a bit of light snoring in an attempt to fool Alfie. He figured he was doing a good job because Alfie said nothing and instead stepped quietly towards him. Vincent felt the other man standing next to the bed but tried not to move or open his eyes as Alfie sat down gently on the edge. He felt Alfie gently run a hand over his hair and heard him let out a quiet sigh. Vincent almost figured he’d leave it that, but then felt the other man move closer. Alfie’s breathing felt warm on his cheek, and he could feel his own heartstrings being tugged at as Alfie gently placed a kiss on his cheek. Alfie’s lips were soft, the same softness that had touched his own lips the night before. 

He knew he couldn’t leave now. Not with how tender he had been touched and kissed. He had to have more. He needed to know more. He wanted to know everything about Alfie. His favorite food. His favorite book. Favorite sweet. Did he like music? Was he allergic to anything? His family. Did he have one? Where were they? Did they hate Alfie as much as his own family hated Vincent?

He knew how selfish he was being. Arthur Sr. had always told him he was a selfish child. Then again, he thought, was it really so selfish that he wanted things? In one way or another, he had never been allowed to have things that made him happy. His family, he had come to realize, weren’t open to allowing that. The sudden realizations came flooding to him all at once and he felt the bile begin to rise in the back of his throat. He opened his eyes and stared up at Alfie for a moment. 

“Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you, pet. I had hoped you’d be up so I could let ya know I was leaving, but you were asleep. So I just sat down and……” Alfie continued to ramble on nervously, and the softness in his voice was the last straw for Vincent. 

The Brummie let out a sob and covered his mouth with his hands as he cried. He sat up and wrapped his arms tightly around Alfie’s neck, burying his face in the other man’s chest. 

“I'm... I'm sorry...I don’t mean to be selfish. Please don’t go, everyone… everyone always goes, and no one…cares. Please, please… no one loves me…” Vincent blubbered, sobs wracking his big frame. His loud cries were the only thing he could hear around him, but he could feel Alfie rocking him softly, and his grip tightening around Vincent. 

“ Alright, alright now. Shhhh, it's alright, darling. I’m here. I'm not going anywhere. I’ve got you.” Alfie murmured, shushing the younger man’s cries. Vincent listened to Alfie and attempted to bring himself down from being so worked up. He took deep, gasping breaths of air and pulled away from Alfie, blinking furiously in an attempt to get rid of the tears. 

Alfie gave him a worried look and very softly, just as in his dream only days before, wiped at Vincent’s eyes. 

“Got yourself all worked up now, silly boy,” Alfie said, pulling a handkerchief out of his back pocket, handing it to Vincent. “And all of it for people who couldn’t give a rat’s arse about you.” 

Vincent whined and put his face back into its new spot on Alfie’s chest. 

“Nevermind them now, treacle. You’re here with me. And I promise I’m going to take care of you.” Alfie spoke with so much sincerity that Vincent felt immensely comforted. He was crying like a baby, sobbing and snotting on the other man, and yet Alfie still held every ounce of adoration that he had had the day they had first seen each other. He meant it. And though there were only a few words said, Vincent almost figured Alfie was telling him he was allowed to have these things that he wanted. He was meant to have them. 

Alfie had kept his word about not leaving Vincent, and had stayed home from his meeting. He had managed to get the younger man calmed down enough to get him into a warm bath, and as Vincent bathed, set to making breakfast for the both of them. 

He had been respectful about Vincent’s privacy and had turned around as the Brummie undressed and lowered himself into the warm bath. It was all very nice and Vincent felt good after having expressed his feeling to someone. He had hoped it would have been his family. 

He had always been so afraid to just tell them that he was tired of being treated the way he was. In all reality, he still was. But the pressure felt lighter and he felt a bit freer in Alfie’s company.

The older man was supposed to be a monster. A killer. He was supposed to be someone Vincent feared. But Vincent couldn’t remember a time when he had ever felt safer. He liked being with Alfie. It was all so new. So early to be so smitten, Vincent thought. And yet he couldn’t help himself. Alfie Solomons could have his heart. No one else seemed to want to treat it properly. 

The rest of the day was spent talking and learning. And kissing. Lots of kissing. It was like being a schoolboy again. Not knowing where to put your hand, and fumbling about, or the graceless clicking of teeth when too excited. It didn't stray any further than that, and Vincent was secretly thankful. As taken with the other man as he was, he was slightly afraid of the idea of Sex with Alfie. Not to mention, their innocent little kisses and touches left room for conversation. And Vincent loved hearing Alfie talk. 

Alfie told Vincent about all sorts of things. He told him about his mother. How he had practically worshipped the woman. He talked about his little sister Miriam, who had died of dysentery at the age of four. He had very little memories of her, but all of them were fond. He talked very little about his father. A bastard and a thief, he had said. He sounded very much like his own father, and so Vincent didn't push the subject. They spent a long time talking about Alfie’s knowledge of different languages. He knew Yiddish, Italian, Russian, and French. He even knew a bit of Cant and surprised Vincent by telling him he was beautiful using said language. It reminded him of his mother and made him feel warm and safe.

All in all the day was calm and beautiful, and Vincent became sad when they had to turn in for the night. He wondered if it would be too much to ask to sleep with the older man. He figured that they didn't have to rush into anything, just maybe sleep next to each other. He was very hesitant when asking Alfie though, and was secretly excited when Alfie had awkwardly said yes. 

“So erm, that’s my side, but if you prefer a certain side, I can switch you,” Alfie said quietly, as he pulled the duvet back. Alfie’s bedroom was as plain as the rest of his house. The furniture and the bed were outdated, and just like the sitting room, not a picture could be found. And still, Vincent found himself, running his hand along the cold wood of the dresser, and bringing a bottle of Alfie’s aftershave to his nose as he looked around the room. 

“Doesn’t matter to me,” Vincent said, giving Alfie a smile as he set the bottle down. He walked over to the bed and helped Alfie move back the sheets. This was done in silence mostly, except for one small sound. Alfie seemed to be nervously humming a tune that Vincent couldn’t place. He studied the older man for a minute and raised an eyebrow in typical Shelby fashion. 

“Are you alright, Alfie?” He asked, crawling across the bed from the side he was on to Alfie’s. He reached the other man, and gathered his bearded face into his hands, making Alfie look up at him. 

Alfie looked Vincent in the eyes and turned his head to kiss one of Vincent’s palms. He turned back to face Vincent and then took the younger man’s hands in his own. 

“I want to be able to give you things, treacle. Lots of things. Things you’ve always wanted. Things you will want. But now, I'm not so sure if I can give you all of those things,” Vincent’s smile fell and he tilted his head in confusion. 

“What are you on about?” Vincent asked, concern written across his features. Alfie had already given more than he could have possibly asked for. He didn’t understand. 

Alfie sighed and let go of Vincent’s hands. He sat down on his side of the bed, his back against the headboard, and his arms crossed. He leaned his head against the headboard and crossed his legs before clearing his throat. 

“ I fell in love with another young man a couple of years ago,” Alfie admitted, his jaw clenched. “ Gave that boy everything. The moon. The stars. All of it. Whatever he wanted, it was his. I thought maybe he really loved me, like I did him. Yknow? I just, I genuinely believed that we were going to be together for all the rest of our days, right. And he...well, to keep a long story short, he just wasn’t satisfied with what I gave him. I mean, not with the presents or the affection, but with …. Uhm, right,...Yknow…” Alfie seemed to be tripping over word after word, trying to find the right one, and Vincent could feel his heart breaking. He scooted closer to the older man and placed a reassuring hand on Alfie's arm. 

“You can tell me, Alfie.” He said, giving Alfie a soft, comforting smile. 

Alfie seemed to be processing something before he spoke. 

“I couldn’t satisfy him sexually. It’s not that,..well, it's not that my shite isn’t functional, right,” He said, gesturing towards his pants. “It’s just that i’m older and it’s a bit difficult to keep up with a young stud, much like yourself.” 

Vincent looked at Alfie and smiled. He held back a chuckle and kissed the older man’s cheek. He had had every intention of waiting, but he couldn’t allow Alfie to believe such rubbish about himself. 

“ I’m sorry, that that other young man couldn’t see what a glorious being he had in his presence,” Vincent said softly, before swinging a leg over Alfie, and straddling his hips. “He was in such a hurry to get his fill, that he wasn’t thinking about you. But that’s not me, love. I’m willing to go slow and take the time to love you. Both emotionally and physically.” 

Vincent placed a soft kiss at the shell of Alfies' ear, causing the older man to shiver. 

“I want you to take your time while you make love to me, Mr. Solomons.” The taller man said, before pulling away.

Alfie looked up at the bigger man in his lap, his eyes full of adoration and lust. He nodded slowly, before pushing Vincent off of him and down onto the bed. 

Alfie smiled down at Vincent, and then kissed him deeply, every inch of him buzzing with the promise to take as much time as he needed when it came to taking the younger man apart. Every piece would be precious in Alfie’s hands. Vincent was sure of it.


End file.
